


Ghouls Just Want to Have Fun

by thecookiemomma



Category: NCIS, NCIS: New Orleans, The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Community: nfacommunity, Crossover, Gen, Help for Nepal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-05 21:50:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4196178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecookiemomma/pseuds/thecookiemomma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A case opens the NCIS team's eyes to the supernatural, and pulls Dresden to DC.  Written for the Help Nepal Auction at NFA, for DNAChemLia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DNAchemLia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DNAchemLia/gifts).



 

 

The team sat in the bullpen, waiting for the phone to ring. That's how Tony saw it, though they were really trying to catch up on paperwork. He'd been working on the annoying stuff for several hours straight, and was just waiting for five o'clock to roll around so that he could go home. Or, again, for the phone to ring. He sat at his desk, twirling his pen, eyes closed in thought. He wanted to call Zoë and take her out to dinner tonight . . .

His musings were interrupted by the ringing phone. “Special Agent Anthony DiNo . . .” the voice cut through his name. “Okay,” he responded, pulling out his phone and entering details. “Okay. Thank you, Merrilee, I appreciate it. We'll get right on it.”

“Somethin' up, DiNozzo?” Gibbs looked up, seeming to be relieved to have a case. Tony inwardly rolled his eyes, and nodded.

“Yeah, Boss. Body in Rock Creek Park. Ten bucks says it's a Petty Officer.” Tony held up his hands and grinned at his Boss' stare, continuing to speak. “Well, statistically, it seems . . .”

“Shut up and grab your bag, DiNozzo,” Gibbs growled.

“On it, Boss.” Tony grabbed his gear, and they headed out to the crime scene.

Sure enough, when they arrived, they found a body lying on the ground, eyes staring toward a nearby tree, face contorted in fear. “Oh, my,” Ducky commented, bending down to examine the corpse. “You are a poor young thing, are you not? And I believe, if the identification is correct, Jethro, Anthony would be ten dollars richer, if anyone would have taken him up on the bet. Petty Officer Sean Martins. It seems he was stationed at Annapolis. Perhaps they would have some more . . . Oh, my,” Ducky repeated. “What is this?” He gestured to Gibbs, who knelt down beside him. “Some animal has taken a large bite of this young man's torso, Jethro. It is unlike any bite mark I have seen in my many years. However, it could be any kind of animal.”

“Not many animals in Rock Creek Park, Doctor Mallard,” Jimmy said, grinning, and Tony rolled his eyes, knowing the Gremlin was about to get himself in trouble again. “Unless you count the ones ogling the pretty runners. They might be considered animals in some sense of the word.” The last word came out on a high-pitched squeal, as the Boss had slapped Jimmy across the back of the head. Tony huffed a soft laugh and knelt down to take pictures.

“Finish up, DiNozzo, and we'll get him back to the Yard. We'll have to have Abby run a cast of the bite, and see what she can come up with. McGee, Bishop, you're with me. Let's find out who was around and what they saw.”

The investigation continued apace, much like any other investigation the team had been involved in. Tony had no idea, nor did any of the rest of them, the crazy world they were about to step into.

 

* * *

The team sat around in the bullpen, gathering the information for him on their victim. He knew it was almost time to go down to Ducky's to see if he'd found out anything else. He was sure it was some sort of animal, too, but he couldn't place the pattern. He'd seen a lot of animal bites, but nothing with that big of a reach and small of a mouth. If it had been something like a bear, he would have kept tearing the meat off the bones, and not stopped at one bite. And it was precise, he'd noted, like someone _knew_ what they were doing. But they didn't have any big cats native to the park, and even that didn't seem to fit. He stood up, and gazed over to Tony. “Goin' for coffee, and then down to autopsy. Have that ready for me when I get back.”

“Yes, Boss,” Tony nodded at him as he rose, and Gibbs strode out of the building, mind still whirling, categorizing all of the animals he knew in the area.

Shaking his head, he paid the coffee guy and headed back inside, barely refraining from slamming his hand against the elevator door. “Damn it,” he sighed, stepping into Autopsy. “What you got for me, Ducks?”

“Unfortunately, Jethro, not a lot. Do you know, this reminds me vaguely of a case I had when I was a young lad. However, I cannot recall the details. Isn't that strange? I cannot recall the details of a case, though I know . . .”

“Yeah, Duck, usually you don't forget a damn thing. It'll come to ya.” Gibbs gave the older man a half-smile, convinced that if there was something similar in his history, he may have forgotten it. He was getting older, after all.

“You are quite right, Jethro. Now, on to the body. I have had Mister Palmer carry samples of the saliva in the bite, and the cast of the bite's marks over to Abigail, but she has not had them for long, and with the poor Petty Officer's other effects, there may have been quite a bit for her to wade through. As you well know, this was not a murder designed for robbery, because the man was carrying several hundred dollars on him, and it was still in his wallet. Pardon me if you don't mind a bit of old man's conjecture, Jethro, but this appears that this man was bitten in this specific place to kill him quickly. However, either the animal was scared away before he could consume his meal, or he had no intention of eating it.” Ducky pointed a gloved finger down to where the muscle was torn. “However, with the pattern of the bite being thus, the latter does not seem probable. However, I cannot tell until we find out what _kind_ of creature has done poor PO Martins in.

“Gotcha Duck.” Gibbs nodded. “Noticed it wasn't anything I recognize,” he offered, knowing that Ducky hated not being able to relate his current cases to anything he knew.

“It is a rather unique pattern. But Abigail will definitely know more.”

“Thanks, Duck. I'll go see 'er now.” Gibbs nodded at him, turned and strode out of the room again, and headed to the Labby. He smiled as he entered, watching her staring at the cast of the bite with a confused expression on his face. “Whatcha got, Abs?”

“My silver fox.” Abby gestured to the cast. “It would be easier to start with what I _don't_ have. As you can see, I've got the Mikrosil set out. We did a good job, but we must have missed something, because it doesn't look like anything I've ever seen. And the databases I've run it through so far don't have anything. I've got a couple more ideas, but they're really . . . out there ones, Gibbs. Like that case we met Kate on out there.”

“Ya solved that one, Abbs,” Gibbs reminded her gently. “What else?”

“All of the Petty Officer's stuff was normal. There wasn't any weird substances on any of it. The saliva I got from the bite mark is still in my baby,” she gestured over to the machine still whirring. “But even that was really hinky, Gibbs. But we'll know when my babies are done, and they'll be done . . .” She turned, expecting the sound, and smiled when the telltale 'ding' rang through the room. “You have such good timing, Bossman.” She winked at him, and Gibbs huffed in amusement. “This can't be right. . .”

“What, Abbs?” Gibbs leaned over and . . . blinked. “Six?”

“That's what the machine says, Gibbs. My babies don't lie.”

“Never said they did, Abbs.” Gibbs pulled out his phone, and called DiNozzo. “Hey, DiNozzo, look up these six names for me.” He read them off, and then hung up on his SFA. “Thanks, Abbs.”

“I didn't do anything, Gibbs. I still have no idea . . .” She paused. “You know what? This is hinky enough I'd like to call Joe.”

“Who's Joe?” Gibbs lifted a brow, suddenly unsure asking had been the right thing. Abby had some . . . interesting friends.

“I met Injun Joe in Louisiana, Gibbs. His real name is Joseph Listens-to-Wind. But nobody calls him that. He was into some really weird stuff. I think he could help us.”

Gibbs grunted his assent, then decided to make himself a little more clear. “Got a friend I need t' talk to myself.” He kissed her again, smiling against her temple. “You call Injun Joe, but don't tell 'im more than . . .”

“Gibbs!” Abby sounded affronted. “I know how to ask for stuff without giving away evidence. I _have_ been doing this a while, you know.”

“I know, Abbs.” Gibbs smiled again, and headed up the stairs.

 

* * *

Vance had been easy to convince. They'd gone to Afghanistan to solve a murder, so going to Chicago to meet a CI hadn't been that difficult to write off. He had smiled, shook his head, and waved him out of the office with a, “Get out of here, Gibbs.”

So, he'd boarded a military transport and found himself in Chicago. He had borrowed a car from the Great Lakes office, and parked it at a building two blocks or so away from Mac's. MacAnally's was an old-style pub. It was run on old fashioned steam and wood power, and lit by candles. In the middle of Chicago, it had been a haven for Gibbs when he was younger. He had asked about the weird architecture, but all Mac would say was that it was necessary around here. After being 'Around here' for a while, he wasn't going to ask what that meant. He noticed that Mac's hadn't changed, even though it had been _years_ since he'd been here. He rolled his eyes, looked around a little before stepping in, and then strode through the old doors.

He heard the grunt of greeting before the door swung shut. Apparently, Mac still kept a close watch on things, even though he'd gotten older, just as Gibbs had. “Mac.” Gibbs greeted him in return.

“Trouble?” Straight to the point. Gibbs grinned at Mac's straightforward way of speaking. He'd found himself emulating it more and more as he grew older. He knew it pissed off Vance sometimes, but it worked, and got things done.

“Might be.” He pulled out pictures, showing the bite marks.

“Damn.” Mac sighed, running a finger across the picture and the mark. “Sailor?”

“Yeah. Petty Officer.” Mac's amused huff was almost as irreverent as Tony's comments, but coming from another Marine, it sounded completely different. “I know, DiNozzo's already said somethin'.”

“Good kid.” Mac had heard stories about the younger man through the years.

“Yeah. Not so much a kid anymore, though.”

Mac shook his head. “Always a kid,” he smiled as the door swung open again, this time admitting a tall, lanky man with scars on his face and a wild look. “Kid.”

“Mac. Can I have a beer? I've got a doozy of a case, and I can't make heads or tails of it. I can't see any magical influence, and . . .” He seemed to just notice Gibbs. “Oh. I'm Harry.” Gibbs shook his hand and nodded in greeting. “There's two of you?” He gestured between the two men. “Mac has a sibling or something?” Both older men huffed quietly at the guy.

“Gibbs.” Mac gestured to Jethro. “Dresden.” Then, he gestured to Harry. Gibbs nodded, satisfied, and Dresden grinned at the terse introduction. Gibbs could grow to like this guy. “Won't look you in the eye, Gunny. Has a damn good reason for it.”

“You said somethin' about a case?” Gibbs was vaguely interested. He filed the _magical influence_ remark for later.

“Yeah. You aren't a cop, are you?” He looked more hopeful than upset.

“Federal Agent.” Gibbs shrugged.

“Oh, even better. Look. I think there's something going on here, but I can't put my finger on it.” He took the beer that Mac offered, leaving the other one for Gibbs to grab, and gestured to a table in the corner. “This one feels the best. It's out of the path of the . . .” Gibbs had his own reasons for liking the seats, but the half-comments Dresden was making would have made him grumpy if he didn't know Mac was into some weird shit. It was why he'd come to Chicago to see him, after all.

“Coworker calls it 'hinky.'” Gibbs replied to Dresden's previous comment. “Means weird shit.” Gibbs grinned, taking a swig of Mac's damn good beer. The man was like a god with beer. Made it himself.

“Weird shit. Gotcha. Well, for me, that's a lot different than most people. I'm a wizard.” He lifted a brow, daring Gibbs to disagree.

“Abracadabra?” Gibbs smiled. He wasn't surprised, not with some of the . . .highly-edited tales Mac had told him through the years.

“You're not gonna deny? Most Federal Agents I've met, granted, the ones I know are all friends with Karen's ex, and therefore tainted,” he added, waving his hand around like Abby. “Like to tell me I should be in the loony bin.”

“Seen enough weird shit.” Gibbs took another pull of the beer, and then gestured to the table. “Mentioned a case.”

Dresden outlined a fairly simple case: the people at Special Investigations had been given a case where the victim was dead without any visible sign of COD. They talked for a while, and something niggled at Gibbs as they did. “You check to see if he was poisoned?”

“They checked for all the normal things, Gibbs,” Dresden said, frowning.

“Lotta abnormal things. Had a case. . .” He grabbed his phone. “Don't break this.” He snorted, holding up his old flip phone. Dresden had explained his natural reaction to electronics in the course of their discussion of the case. It made sense to the Agent. It also explained a hell of a lot about Mac's place. He liked teasing the younger man, too. Kid was funny.

“Much less likely that than a new smart phone. Fewer circuits for me to fry. I'll just stay over here in the corner.” Dresden held up his hands.

“Good enough,” Gibbs grinned, and dialed Abby. “Hey, Abbs, you remember that case we had . . .” He explained, and could hear her typing as she started listing the substances she'd tested. He gazed at Dresden, who seemed to be cocking his ear, listening. “You test for any of that crap?”

“No, none of it. So, just have them widen the search?” Dresden sounded relieved, and looked even more relieved when Gibbs nodded. “Good. I thought I was losing my mojo. It's actually a bitch to get back.” He grinned.

Gibbs quirked a brow at him.

“Long-ass story.” Dresden replied, waving his hand at him. “So, if this pans out, Special Agent Gibbs, I will owe you one.”

“Can pay now,” Mac's voice piped up from near them. “Man's got his own case. From our side of the fence.”

“No shit?” Dresden blinked. It was Gibbs' turn to pull out the pictures and gesture down to the bites. “Shit.” Dresden ran a hand through his unruly hair, took another long drink of his booze, and then swore again. “Hell's bells. Fucking ghouls.”

“Ghouls?” Gibbs wondered what a ghoul was.

“They're kind of supernatural enforcers. The most normal of the heavies. Well, maybe slightly less normal than Renfields.” Gibbs glared at Dresden, like he did his team. “Whoa, Gibbs. That's a powerful stare.” Gibbs watched him look away, carefully, like he was being sure not to catch his eye. He wondered about that, but trusted Mac.

“Who'd be usin' em?” Gibbs asked. “And why th' hell would they be killin' a Petty Officer?”

“Lot of people use them. And as far as who'd kill a member of the military, I don't know. We usually try to stay out of the way of the military. Magic and soldiers don't mix well. I mean, you get a few who join up, but they're usually not full-fledged wizards. Maybe a para, or a light user. And since mostmagical talents are passed down through Sallic Law – but, strangely enough, on the girl's side of things – finding really strong, male practitioners who _aren't_ freaking warlocks can be hard.” Gibbs tilted his head, not understanding a good portion of that. But it did say one thing: the wizard didn't know why his man would be killed.

“Gotta solve this. Means goin' back to DC.” Gibbs frowned.

“Maybe I could be convinced to do that. But not for free, Gibbs. I do this for work. I'm a consultant. You can hire me.”

“Gotta talk to Vance about that.” Gibbs muttered, internally amused at Dresden's own curious look. “My boss.” Dresden nodded, and they sat quietly for a few moments, finishing their drinks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started to write Dresden, and it came out in first person. So, that may be a bit jarring, but if you know the books, you know why I did it that way. Enjoy.

Vance leaned back in his chair, trying not to gape at his premier agent as he spoke to him on the phone. “You want to do _what_?” 

“Wanna bring in this guy as a consultant. He needs paid. He's the only one who can solve the case, Leon.” 

“You want to someone to solve your case for you?” He frowns. “That's not like you, Gibbs. Are you comin' down with somethin'?” He smiles, as he considers the tough Marine with a cold. That would be scary for whoever had to deal with him. 

“No, Leon. I ever tell you about the guy I came up here to see?” Gibbs was calling from just inside a small bar in Chicago that Leon had only vaguely heard of. 

“ No, Gibbs, you haven't. Is it relevant?” 

“Well, yeah.” Leon could just see the other man rolling his eyes. “Met him in Afghanistan. Was goin' on a patrol in Desert Storm, while I was servin' and he stepped in, and told me that there were some unfriendlies over the sand dune to the east. We'd just checked there. Thing of it was, they were usin' some kind of . . .” Leon could hear the uncertainty in Gibbs' voice, and frowned. 

“Some kind of new tech?” He asked, curious what would make the man nervous. 

“No. Listen. You ever see somethin' you couldn't explain, except with words you didn't like to use?” There was another long pause and Gibbs sighed. “Listen. Straight out. Man claims he's a wizard. And I have seen enough shit that it wasn't that much of a stretch for me to believe it. Mac's got a thing with beer. Even though he was in the desert, in a dry country, he had some of the best beer I've ever tasted. Gave it to us after we'd gotten out of trouble. And it actually kept us hydrated, unlike that other crap.” Leon could hear another man chuckling softly. “Don't get too close, Dresden, I need this damn phone.” 

“Gotcha, Hoss,” the deep, gravelly voice said, humor still evident. 

“Wait. Dresden? I think I might have heard of him. Does he work with the SI boys?” Leon had heard stories of a strange man working with the cops to figure out some of the weirdest cases. 

“That's him, yeah,” Gibbs agreed. 

“Well, I'll be damned. Does he know old man Murphy?” Gibbs relayed the question, and he got the answer. 

“Didn't know him so well, no. Works with his daughter, though. She runs the division now.” Leon blinked. It _had_ been awhile. 

“Okay. So, you want to . . . Listen. Let me call Brody down in NOLA, and see what she says. Get back to the Great Lakes office, and we'll do this over screen. 

“Can't have him in the room, Leon.” Gibbs sounded vaguely apologetic, which threw him. 

“Why not?” 

“Somethin' about magic and tech not workin' well together. This is workin' because I have an older phone and am several feet away from him.” 

“Alright, Gibbs. Get the information from him, and we'll talk when you get back to the office. He can wait outside.” He rolled his eyes, and hung up, looking back down at his paperwork. It'd take Gibbs about twenty minutes – hell, what was he saying? It'd take the man about ten minutes to get back to the office, if he remembered the distance correctly. That gave him enough time for a bathroom break, and then he'd head up to MTAC. He shuffled the papers into piles, grabbed his jacket, and headed downstairs.

* * *

I waited for the Agent to finish his call. I liked this guy. He was nothing like Murph's ex, or the jackasses who'd been a part of that _Hexenwulfen_ mess. He worked for the Navy, which confused me. It was kind of weird that they were all the way out here in Chicago. Wasn't the Navy mostly in the coastal states? Gibbs politely informed me that they did have a base in the Great Lakes area, so that was the office we were going to. I was glad that Mac had warned him about the soulgaze thing. Maybe we'd get to that point in our relationship, but right away? I'm not that kind of girl, thank you.

Gibbs flipped his phone shut and turned toward me. His eyebrows said more than he did with words. If they would have spoke, they would've said, “Are you ready? We're burning daylight.” Which, to be fair, we were. 

“I need to grab my things out of my car. Wizards don't carry badges, but we do have our own tools.” I grinned at him, and he gestured toward the door. We went out into the summer sunshine, and I took a deep breath. I had a feeling I wasn't going to be around Chicago for a while. That made me frown. I hoped nothing would happen to the city while I was gone. “Probably should call Murph and tell her I'll be out of town. Or Thomas. Somebody should feed Mister.” 

“Mister?” Oh, look. An actual word. 

“Yeah, my cat. I mean, I could probably just let him prowl, but someone's gotta go let him out. My cleaners aren't too bad about cleaning up cat crap, but I really don't want to offend them.” I shook my head, thinking about the Brownies. _They'd_ probably be okay, but it'd matter to other Sidhe, and yeah, no thanks. I didn't need that on my head. _Again._

“Could stop by your place for a bit, leave your car there.” Gibbs replied. 

“Oh, would you? That way I could get a few more things.” I smiled. That would help, especially if we went directly to DC from the office. Well, I'd have to see how he came. “How did you get here, anyway?” I got another eyebrow lift, sure that he wanted clarification. “I mean, did you drive, or fly?” 

“Flew.” Damn. 

“I can't fly. Electronics.” 

“Gonna be a problem. I can drive if I have to. How d'ya get around, then?” He sounded really curious. 

“I go through – uh, I go through the Nevernever.” 

“Huh?” There was the disbelief I hadn't seen earlier. His understanding and acceptance of the weird shit only went so far. 

“I'll explain later. Suffice it to say, I take a wizard's shortcut.” He grunted in acceptance, and I went to my car. Mouse sniffed at me, checking to make sure I was okay, and then huffed in greeting. “Hey, Furball,” I replied. “I want you to meet this guy. I think you'd like him. He talks as much as you do.” Mouse nosed at my head, and I chuckled. “Alright, let's go. We're gonna go get a few things, and then you and I, and probably Bob, are gonna go to DC. You ever been to DC, boy?” He didn't deign to respond. 

It didn't take us that long to get to my house, and I opened up the door, yanking on it. I sighed, mentally cataloging all the things I'd need to take with me. I had gotten used to grabbing a bag and keeping it stocked for emergencies. For huge-ass fights, more like. So, I grabbed that. I also grabbed a bag I'd started loading with simpler things for potions and other spells. Stuff I could take with me when training the . . . Shit. I needed someone to tell _her_ , too. For not having a family, I sure as hell had an involved life. I rolled my eyes, gathered my things, and then grabbed the phone. “Listen, Murph, I'm probably gonna go out of town on a case.” 

“Are you in some kind of trouble, Harry? Do you need me to go with you?” Murph was a damn keeper. 

“No, Karrin. I think we'll be okay this time. Working for the Feds. It's a small agency that deals with Navy and Marines. They've had a ghoul attack, and I want to find out what's munching on sailors.” 

“Damn. I hate those things.” I nodded, and Mouse huffed his agreement. 

“Me too, Murph, Me too. Anyway, would you let Molly know, and uh, maybe come watch over Mister once in a while? Let him out, but don't . . .” 

“I _have_ watched your unruly beasts before, Dresden. And I am including Thomas in that mix.” Yeah. She knew me too damn well. 

“That's true. Okay. We're gonna go talk to his boss to make sure, but I'm pretty sure we'll be leaving soon. I'll be going through the Nevernever . . .” Damn. I needed to be sure I grabbed Mom's pendant. 

“Don't forget your necklace, Dresden. I'd hate for you to get lost in there. Again.” I rolled my eyes.

“Yes, Mom.” I waited, checklisting everything. “One more thing, Karrin, could you uh, look in on the kid some, too?” 

“I'll check on Maggie too, Dresden. Stop worrying.” I huffed, and she corrected herself. “Don't worry _too_ much.” 

“Thanks, Murph, you're a doll.” 

“You will owe me, Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden.” Wow. The _whole_ Name. And she almost got it Right. Wow. 

“Yes, Ma'am. I will definitely owe you.” I grinned, said good bye, and hung up. I grabbed my stuff, including Bob, slid on my rings and my duster, reached for the staff, and headed out the door. I had a case to solve, and some ass to kick. And I didn't even have any bubblegum.

* * *

Gibbs waited outside for the wizard while he got his stuff. He couldn't imagine what a man would need to do magic. All the visuals he had were either fairy-tale, or like McGee with his damn Elf-lord shit. Nothing prepared him for someone who claimed to do magic and would probably be doing it in his presence. He wondered how many substances he'd have to overlook in the guy's ruck. Luckily, he wouldn't have to vouch for him at the airport. He winced as he thought of that. That _would_ be a bitch.

A few moments later, Dresden came out of his house with his huge-ass dog, a walking stick, two backpacks, and a heavy thick leather duster. Black, of course. He blinked and nodded to the door. 

“Mouse, meet Gibbs. Gibbs, this is Mouse. He's a Foo Dog. He's part of my equipment. He saves my ass, and helps me solve things.” 

Gibbs grunted, and was surprised when the dog huffed back, sniffing at him. Damn dog was large enough to do so through the window of the sedan. “Pass muster?” He asked, not sure whether he was talking to the dog or the man. 

“Yeah, you'd know if you didn't. C'mon, Mouse, back up, and let me open the door.” The dog did, and Gibbs' eyebrows raised even higher. He had seen obedient dogs before, but this was nuts. It made him wonder how many of Mac's stories were scrubbed. There had been enough hinky in them to make him accept quite a bit, but now he wondered if the man hadn't left out a lot. 

Dresden let his beast in the back seat, where Mouse – who the hell named a dog that size 'Mouse' – sat patiently while Dresden shoved all his paraphernalia in the seat and bent himself into the smaller seat of the car. 

The car was silent as Gibbs drove to the office. Dresden didn't say anything about his driving, but he had stuck his right hand into the handle, just like DiNozzo had when he was getting used to the way he drove. He shook his head, and pulled into the parking lot. “Not sure where you can go. Whole damn place's wired up with computers, and not sure they'd let Mouse in. Part of your equipment or not. I'll vouch for 'im in DC.” 

“I can wait out here, Gibbs. Mouse and I will be fine.” He shrugged, and Gibbs grunted in reply. He strode into the building, flashing his badge at the security, and moved into the conference room. Leon was already up on the screen. 

“Had to stop by his place and get his stuff.” Gibbs began with, in lieu of an apology. 

“Fair enough. If we don't end up bringing him back with you, somebody can take him home.” Gibbs grunted agreement. With another flick of a switch, Meredith Brody was on the other half of the screen. “Brody. Can you tell us about . . .” Leon paused, gazing at Gibbs. “You tell her.” 

“Brody.” Gibbs greeted her, “Got a guy I'm thinkin' of hiring to consult. You heard of 'im?” He waited for a moment, for her to finish her greetings to them, and then said. “Man's name is Dresden. He's a wizard, so he says.” 

“Oh. I've heard of him. We didn't have any dealings with him personally, but there was this one mafia guy who we were looking at for something . . . Turned out he didn't do it, but there were hints he was involved in some . . . interesting stuff. Let's just say that the voodoo stuff didn't surprise me as much as I made it seem.” 

“You think he can help us solve a case? Already identified the bites from the pictures.” Gibbs threw that out there, and grinned when Vance raised his eyebrows.

“You didn't tell me that, Gibbs.” Vance blinked. “He knows who --” 

“What,” Gibbs interrupted.

“What did it?” 

“Ghouls.” Gibbs gestured, arms out in front of him, showing his unease and uncertainty with the diagnosis. “Have to have Abby check it, but . . .” 

“Ghouls.” His voice was deadpan. 

“I've heard of ghouls. They're nasty.” Brody shuddered. “They like to eat human flesh.”  
“When you were here?” Gibbs asked, curious.

“No, here in N'Awlins,” she replied, pronouncing the city like a native. Being around King was doing her some good. He looked at her, gestured for her to elaborate. “We had a case where a sailor was dead, and had been eaten. All that was left was the bones, and even they had the marrow sucked out of them. There had been . . . oh, hell, something like twenty cases of something similar? We thought it might be an animal, but nobody had heard of an animal that would do that on land. Not in the bayou. So, Pride's got a friend . . .” 

“Enough said, Agent Brody,” Vance held up his hand, his face a couple shades paler than it had been. “Go ahead and bring the wizard, Gibbs. He gonna be able to fly?” 

“Nope. Avionics. He'll get there on his own.” Gibbs shrugged. 

“Fair enough. You get back here. Your team's getting restless, and there's already been a spitball war.” Gibbs rolled his eyes at that, and nodded. 

“See ya soon, Leon. Thanks, Brody.” He nodded, and watched as the two sides of the screen darkened into the test patterns, then he grabbed his ruck, and headed back out the door. 

“Good news, Dresden.” He opened the back door, letting the mammoth dog out. Mouse didn't move. “Meet ya there. You wanna go to the Navy Yards. Cabs'll work, or if you can get close enough . . .Think there's an old hotel near the yards that may not have a lot of tech for you to destroy.” 

“Alright. Thank you. My rent thanks you.” Dresden grinned, picking up his stuff. “C'mon, Mouse, into Fae. You've got to warn me if we run into malks again, buddy. That was _not_ a lot of fun.” Mouse seemed to huff again, and Gibbs shook his head. He went to find his own transportation, confident that the wizard would meet him there.


	3. Chapter 3

Gibbs sauntered into the building, looking around. "Might be a problem," he mused to himself. He greeted his team with a nod and a headslap for Tony – the spitball war was still going on – and headed up the stairs, coffee in hand to ask Vance about the accommodations for his consultant.

 

"Gibbs. You're back. Where's the ... where's your guy?" Vance looked around.

 

"Electronics, Leon. Tryin' to think of a place we can talk to him that it won't ..." He gestured around to the screens and cameras everywhere.

 

"Good point." Leon chewed on his toothpick for a moment. "You know, there's that room that's protected from an EMP blast. It's currently empty, but we could set up a card table and a couple chairs to let him work in there."

 

"That'll do. Good thinking." Gibbs nodded, and headed back out of the room, shutting the door behind him. "DiNozzo!" He barked an order from the mezzanine. "Go get that card table from the storage room, and two chairs. Bring 'em up here."

 

After DiNozzo had gotten all of that squared away, Gibbs walked back outside, jerked his head toward the door, and turned to walk back in. "Got a room." With a huff of amusement, the lanky wizard followed him, his massive dog in tow. They walked through the bullpen, and Gibbs could see the curious stares and hear the comments. He rolled his eyes, and kept going. "EMP proof. Should do it." He pointed to the card table and chairs, and Harry sat down in one.  

 

Gibbs left the room, going to pick up his team and the file. "Talk to me."

 

"Man, that's a huge dog, Boss. Bigger than your namesake," DiNozzo started.

 

"Enough about the dog. What've you got for me?" He gestured toward the plasma.

 

"Not a hell of a lot, Gibbs," Bishop replied, her characteristic frown showing. "I mean, PO Martins kept his nose clean, literally and figuratively. His parents are corn farmers. Seriously. A huge corn farm in Iowa."

 

"Isn't that corny?" Tony interjected, and Gibbs glared. He'd slap the kid if he kept going. "Right, Boss. Known associates. He's got a couple friends who are . . . a little hinky, but they're all fairly normal as things go. Nothing that seemed out of place at first blush."

 

"Good work. Get me hard copies of all the information, and let's go into the EMP room. Don't give the man any lip about what he says. It's damn hinky, but I've seen . . ." He let his sentence trail off, and strangely enough, they all looked at him with understanding in their gazes.

 

"Yeah, Boss, I've seen a few things here and there that'd make _Abby's_ head spin." Tony snorted. "There was a case in Baltimore. Remind me to tell you about it sometime." He cut himself off, surprisingly, and headed toward the room.

 

"Dad used to talk about some of the shit he'd seen . . . Not a lot, mind you, but when he was on the sea, there were often things that were pretty unexplainable." McGee shrugged and frowned. "Boss, if he's not supposed to be around electronics, should we leave our phones out here?"

 

"You'd probably better," Gibbs agreed. "Think mine's old enough." Tim nodded in understanding, and set his doohickey on his desk. Bishop did the same, and they went to go talk to the wizard.

* * *

 

This team seemed like they were going to be pretty accommodating. They'd found an EMP-safe room, gotten me a card table and chairs, and were bringing me paper copies of everything. I hadn't had this much assistance since Murph and Thomas and I had gotten some of Marcone's goons to help me. I shuddered at some of those memories, mostly because I hated thinking about what had happened to some of my friends. Like Michael.

 

I pulled myself from my musings and gestured to the chair. "There's only one, but one of you is welcome to take it."

 

"See who works best with you, and you'll partner with 'em." Gibbs looked at each of the team in turn, somehow communicating something to them. He was pretty good at that, I'd noticed.  

 

"Fair enough. Okay, so. Ghouls. They like meat. And, since people are basically more intelligent pigs, they like to eat humans. They don't care if they're dead, and they definitely don't cook them." The youngest one looked slightly green, but the second just pursed his lips in grim awareness. I could get to like that guy.

 

"What do they look like?" That came from the pretty lady.

 

"Like a person, except with long, sharp teeth, a little bit grayer skin, and usually thick, greasy hair. At first, it can be hard to tell them apart from a human until they either speak or open their mouths." Both Gibbs and his second raised their brows in a question, silently asking how they spoke. "They kind of sound like Voldemort with the hissing." That apparently didn't mean anything to Gibbs, but the other three got it.

 

"Sibilant s sounds, Gibbs. Drawn out like a snake was speaking." Bishop – that was the girl's name. Maybe the second was named Rook, or something. Gibbs gestured to get on with it, and I gave them a little more information.

 

"Do you mind if I bring out my personal computer?" They looked confused.

 

"I thought you couldn't use electronics," the youngest asked me, his head tilted in a question.

 

"Bob isn't electronic. He's magic. But he's my personal assistant, data keeper, and reminder system. So he basically does everything a computer does. I can't get him to send emails, though."

 

"I could if you'd let me stay in Mister long enough, Harry." They all jumped, and Gibbs and his second had their hands on their weapons.

 

"Good reflexes." I grinned, and reached into the bag. "He's a spirit of air and intellect, but he's housed in the skull. So, kind of like a really smart, invisible turtle."

 

"Ha, ha ha," Bob rejoined, and they all stared. "I'm not the slow one in this partnership." I rolled my eyes.

 

"So, ghouls. How else can mortals recognize them?" That came from the boss. He was as impatient as Murphy on a bad day, and could definitely out-glare her.   He reminded me a bit of Morgan. I sighed, and the tall guy gave me a lifted brow. I shook my head and stretched out, waiting for Bob to explain. I had a feeling I knew who I was going to partner with, if my idea passed snuff with the boss.

* * *

We talked for a while longer, and then, the Boss let us all go. I had signed in at a local hostel that had come highly recommended by an elderly wizard that lived nearby. She was almost a hundred years old, and she had a mothering streak a mile wide. She looked after the young wizards as much as she could while still staying out of the main council's business. Apparently, she wasn't too keen on working with the 'old bastards' -- a direct quote, and preferred to help more directly. Anyway.

 

I had called in, so DiNozzo took my giant protector and me to the hostel in a company car, and dropped me off. This hostel served supper for a decent price, so I went ahead and bought some food and sat down to eat it. After I'd eaten, I laid down to rest. Mouse came up to me, whuffing softly, and I chuckled. "Hey, boy." I talked to him for a while, outlining what I knew so far. I did this from time to time to try to keep things straight in my head. Before I had Mouse, I had talked to Bob. Mouse was a much better listener. Tonight, though, there wasn't much. So far, what I knew was this: there was a baddie with a fetish for ghouls letting his -- or her -- playthings run around DC. The names they'd shown me didn't look too familiar, and Bob hadn't recognized them. I realized I was missing something important. I didn't know this area. I was gonna have to go out there. Incognito. That meant leaving the furball and the bonehead at home. I convinced Mouse of the necessity, packed a few tricks to stick in my pockets, and headed out.

 

I wanted to find the spiritual center. So, I kept walking. I must have walked for miles. I couldn't make heads or tails of what I was feeling. There were so many old layers of _stuff_ that I couldn't keep it all straight. I was getting overwhelmed, and I hadn't even turned on my Sight. I knew it wouldn't be a good thing to be that defenseless in a brand new place. So, I just kept walking. Finally tiring, I sat down on a bench to puzzle out what I'd learned from my walks and conversations. I started to get a hint of something important. It niggled at the back of my mind like an itch I couldn't reach. However, I needed to get _some_ sleep if I was going to help the Navy Cops come morning. So, I stood up and walked back toward the hostel. About two blocks from it, the itch started to formulate into something more. Then, I heard the squeal of tires, felt a baseball bat to the back of the head, and went down. My last waking thought was, _well, at least **this** is familiar._


End file.
